


Case File: Lang Edward H. Scott

by NeonSauce



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: CLINT DOES NOT HAVE A FAMILY HE IS TOO BIG OF A MESS, Gen, More tags to be added, Panic Attacks, Tony's like 32 in this fic, aka ppl get hurt but not much, barney barton married laura and that's where they hid out during aou, mainly focuses on Scott even tho he doesn;t have a narrative, mild violence, p much all characters are equally important in the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 12:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7438461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonSauce/pseuds/NeonSauce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Name: Lang Edward Harris Scott<br/>Alias: Ant-Man<br/>Age: 37<br/>Gender: Male<br/>Height: 6"0<br/>Weight: 190 lbs<br/>Powers: Can communicate with ants, shrink and grow at will. </p><p>First discovered by Falcon during Lang's breach of the Avengers compound. Has ties within Pym Technologies. In depth analysis enclosed. </p><p>Or; Not hero Scott Lang and the Avengers learn the meaning of friendship.</p><p>DISCONTINUED</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. REPORT: Agent Clinton F. Barton aka HAWKEYE

**Author's Note:**

> Pls appreciate my bug child. Also this is my first fic for marvel, might be a lil ooc. Updates might be irregular

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST MARVEL FIC LEZZGO
> 
> I really like Scott in the movies. I don't know a lot about the comics but I pulled deaf hawkeye and some other stuff from there. 
> 
> pls let me know if characterization is a bit off

Clint likes Scott.

The journey to Berlin was long, but Scott could read Clint easily. He knew when to start conversation and when to drop it. He had incredible comedic timing, and his tales from prison were entertaining as hell. 

All that tact went out the window upon meeting Cap, which made it even funnier. And then there was the whole ‘giant man’ thing, which Clint thought was one of the coolest things he saw that day. The inside of The Raft wasn’t as cool. 

“Aw, jail.” Clint whined, breaking the silence.

“What’d you think will get ‘em into bigger trouble. Black, veteran or LGBT?” Sam seethes from his bed.

“You’re fucking Captain America, that might get you some brownie points.” Wanda tries, slumped against the wall of the cell. She’s leaning awkwardly against the wall, the collar around her neck too big for her to sit in any other position comfortably.

“Steve’s the source of the problem, that will get me no favours. Negative one favours even.”

“You’re banging Captain America?” Scott asks, slightly awestruck.

“Got a problem?” Clint asks, instinctively squaring his shoulders and cocking his head. Sam’s even look turns dark. Wanda doesn’t do anything, most likely in fear of getting shocked. 

“No, no!” Scott yelps, waving his hands defensively. After a few moments he says much more quietly “Teen Scott would’ve liked to know that Cap’s bi.”

“Pansexual, actually.” Sam corrects. “School or parents?”

“I had a very supportive school, and my dad was a trans man. Most of it was my uncle and aunt.”

“How bad were they?” Clint asks.

“They were active members of the Westboro Baptist Church.” Scott deadpans. Clint winces. 

“My dad was the abusive piece of shit. Both of them, actually.”

“Gay parents?” Sam asks.

“Bad foster care system.” Clint responds. “And shit luck. Me n’ my brother joined the circus after.”

“My parents are dead.” Wanda states from her position against the wall.

“Both of mine are alive and great, they’re retired and in New Orleans. What the fuck?” Clint looks at Sam and the pure shock on his face makes Clint laugh, slightly hysterical. “White people, I swear to god.”

“If I said I was three percent Cherokee how hard would you hit me?” Scott asks casually, stretched out on his bed. Wanda snorts, which gets Sam laughing. 

Twenty minutes later when the conversation dies down, Tony Stark walks in. 

It isn’t pretty.

They’re on The Raft for three days before Cap breaks them out. During those three days Scott plays an incredibly dangerous game he calls ‘How Angry Can I Get The Guards Before They Beat Me?’. He never gets beat up, but he gets dangerously close. Most of it is an attempt to get Wanda to laugh. The one time Clint joins he gets tazed. 

“That’s some major bullshit man.” Clint groans from the floor. 

“You went for Arthur. Arthur’s the angriest, that’s why he’s on morning duty. It’s when we’re the crabbiest, so they but the meaner ones then. If you pulled that stunt with Dakota and Claire they would’ve eaten it up. Claire probably would’ve joined in.” Scott says between bites. They’ve each gotten a tray full of toast and rubbery eggs. It’s the only time when Wanda’s hands are freed.

“How’d you know that?” She asks. Scott shrugs.

“General prison knowledge.”

“I’ve been to prison before.” Clint says angrily.

“The longest you’ve ever been in prison was for a week, before Agent Coulson busted you out with at least three different types of guns.” Sam clarifies. “Scott’s had three _years_ of jail time.”

“This bullshit is so major, it’s gonna get promoted to Colonel.” Clint mutters, and Wanda snickers. “It’s so major, it fucking skipped Lieutenant Colonel, went straight to Colonel. Fuckin’ A dude.”

“Language.” Cap says mildly. Sam scrambles to his feet, a grin as bright as the sun on his face. The glass opens, and Sam fucking _flies_ into Steve’s arms and they attempt to kiss. They’re barely able to because they’re both smiling so hard. It’s disgusting. Clint loves it.

He says so and Sam laughs, the most genuine he’s sounded since they’ve been put in this rock. 

The escape is quite easy. Not surprisingly so. Cap did rip the collar off of Wanda’s neck and immediately she knocked out every single guard in the place. Except Dakota, who gives them a two fingered salute as they walk past.

“I’ll look forward to that place in LA you’ve gotten me Cap!” She says.

“You and Claire are going to be the two cutest brides at the wedding expo. Make all the straights uncomfortable.” Clint says solemnly. She smiles and it’s the purest thing Clint has ever seen. He ruffles her hair. “Take care of yourself kid.” He says.

Stepping onto the quinjet is a delicious feeling.

“Freedom!” Clint hollers as they take off. Steve laughs, his hand still in Sam’s even as he flies the plane. Wanda’s head is in Clint’s lap and she’s fast asleep. Clint’s hearing aids begin to ache when they take off and Wanda’s head makes Clint’s lap grow uncomfortably warm. Scott sits across from Clint and they exchange grins. Life is good.

That was the last time he saw Scott.

That’s not _really_ true. While in Wakanda he spent time with Wanda, helping her heal. Also avoiding Steve after the bombshell about what happened in Siberia. Barnes went into cryo (Which is a shame, he really liked the way his ass in those jeans), Steve and Sam spent all of their time together doing who knows _what_ (Clint didn’t ever wanna know ever nope don’t think about your team mates fucking Clint) and Scott… disappeared.

Clint didn’t see him much outside of meals. Sometimes he’d catch Scott on his way out from the gym, dripping sweat. Sometimes he’d see him in the market, a flash of white amongst the darker Wakandan crowd (Clint never was aware of how truly _white_ he was until he came to Wakanda). Most of the time they passed each other in the hallway of T’Challa’s mansion, a quick nod to each other the only communication.

No one knew what he did. No one bothered to know. They were all wrapped up in their own thoughts, their own grievances. But every time Clint saw Scott it always shocked him how lonely Scott looked. 

Most of Wakanda passed like a weird fever dream. Few moments of clarity, not much laughter. Clint almost swore his smile lines were fading by the end of it. Then the news came.

Tony had fought tooth and nail to get them back. It was… scary? Sad? Infuriating? It was a lot of thing because the last time Clint had seen Tony his blood had damn near evaporated it boiled so fast. Then as each news report aired and it became clear how much Tony was hurting from the fall out and then two weeks into their hideout Steve had dropped the fucking nuke that was Siberia it became clear. Clear that out of everyone, Tony had been hurt the most by the war.

It sucked.

When they went back to the compound, Vision was the only one there. 

“Tony is in New York, at the Avengers Tower. He is drawing the press there instead.” He says, still serene and calm as ever. He looks at them all, and for a split second his eyes linger on Wanda, before they snap away, moving over to Steve. “Welcome back.”

“And Colonel Rhodes?” Sam asks nervously.

“He’s in Malibu, on vacation with Ms. Potts. He said to make two things clear. One, he absolutely does not, under no circumstances, now and never will blame you Sam.” Vision states, and Sam’s shoulders slump in relief. “Two, he thinks that Captain Rogers is, and I quote, a ‘fuckhead piece of shit’ that ‘better not screw shit over again’ and that ‘bastard shouldn’t be expecting niceties for a long fucking time’.” Vision finishes.

“I hope he knows that I am well aware of that fact.” Steve replies tensely. Vision nods, his eyes flitting back to Wanda. He tears them away, and walks out of the room. Clint looks at Wanda.

“Go get him tiger.” Scott whispers encouragingly. Wanda sucks in a deep breath and runs after him.

“Did I miss something?” Steve asks after a beat. Sam stares at him with disbelief. 

“This is why it took us so long to fuck you oblivious piece of shit.” Sam mutters, tears his hand away from Steve’s and walks over to the bar to fix himself a drink. Steve walks after him, loudly complaining. 

Clint has a room in the compound, even though he decided to retire and be the Cool Uncle. He elects to ignore it, and he sits with Scott on the couch. 

“This is… bizarre.” Scott breathes, looking up at the ceiling. “I never dreamed I’d be in the Avengers compound.”

“You can talk to ants, shrink and grow bigger. How is this bizarre?” Clint asks. Scott just shakes his head slightly.

“I have to make a phone call.” Scott mutters. His eyes are wide and his breathing is shaky. “I-I’m sorry, I have to-”

“Go for it man.” Clint says calmingly. Places a calming hand on Scott’s arm. “Take it easy, ok?”

“Yeah.” Scott breathes. He clenches and unclenches his hands, slowing his breathing down. He’s starting to look less shellshocked. “Yeah, sorry. _Shit_ I panicked.”

“Happens to everyone.” Clint pats Scott’s arm before grabbing the remote. “You can use my burner, I’ll erase all the contacts that you’ve dialed.” Clint throws his burner at Scott, an old flip phone that Steve has insisted they used. Scott fumbles with it for a moment before catching it properly. “Take it easy Scott.”

Scott opens his mouth to say something, closes it and nods once. Clint doesn’t bother looking at him turn the corner into the stairwell. He turns on the TV and settles into the same worn leather couch that had been in the tower when he first moved in. Something pulls at Clint’s heart, which is impossible, because it’s dead and cold. He elects to watch Big Brother with his hearing aids off because that’s the only way to do it. He’s three minutes into the episode when his StarkPhone buzzes in his pocket.

**Rich Baby Nerd**  


-I’m still cool w/ u

-How many snacks do u want me to bring

Clint smiles

**You**  


-As many as ur plane can fit + any bacon flavoured alcohol

Some girl punches a guy out on TV. Sam and Steve cuddle on the couch. Clint’s back home, and life has never been better. 

He still has to explain everything to Barney and Laura. That can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up, Tony Stark is not okay, but he is getting better


	2. From the notes of Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone please help Tony he's gone through Enough

Tony is a solid 5.3 out of 10 at the moment. 5.35 if he’s pushing it.

Since the others arrived three weeks ago, every second in the compound is _hell_. Wanda is still mad at him, and she and Vision got their shit together so now he can’t talk to his android kid anymore. Pepper and Rhodey are in Malibu, on a much needed break from dealing with Tony’s bullshit. Natasha, Bruce and Thor are still MIA. Clint’s still ok, they’ve been hanging out more lately but the wound is still fresh. Sam is there but distant, and conversations with him are stunted and awkward. And Steve…

Steve is a conversation only broached after at least two bottles of scotch. And Tony’s been sober for over a year now, so that door is still firmly bolted shut.

He has T’Challa, in a way. They have video calls while Tony binge works, discussing the amendments to the accords and each other’s parents and whatever else comes to mind. It’s mostly Tony rambling and T’Challa interjecting with a snarky comment or gentle reassurances every now and then. Tony quite likes T’Challa. He likes T’Challa a lot. 

There’s Peter too. New York is still the number one villain spot in the world for whatever reason, and Peter handles most of it. But sometimes Tony will throw on the suit, fly over and help, partly to get Peter on the media’s good side (everyone’s for it, except the Daily Bugle cause Jameson is an idiot who thinks that Tony is adopted and has a secret sickly brother) and mostly cause he _adores_ Peter. Most of the time he sees Peter in his lab, as his paid intern. They spend most of their time working on their respective gear and complaining about Dr. Octopus and how he’s an absolute idiot. Peter’s snarky, nervous and hands down the most sweet person Tony’s ever met. Peter’s wonderful. 

That brings his current support group up to two people. Great. A stupidly handsome prince with an excessive amount of responsibilities and a teenager with a crushing amount of responsibilities. Neither of which are available when Tony’s having a panic attack in his workshop at 2 am. 

_Breathe in and out_ Tony tells himself as he gulps in huge gasps of air. He’s curled up underneath his desk, the metal desk pressed against his left side and back, his swivel chair against his right side. FRIDAY has the lights as bright as they can be, and she’s playing the loudest song he owns at the loudest possible volume. He is very much _not_ alone in the wormhole, but he is alone, which means his brain immediately goes to wormhole. It’s either wormhole or the aftermath of Siberia nowadays. Whenever his brain deems it necessary for a throwback, it even goes to Afghanistan. Joy.

_In and out_ Tony thinks again as he bites down on his hand, in the exact same spot that he’s been gnawing on for the last twenty minutes and hard enough to draw blood this time. _In and fucking out_.

“Stark?” Someone calls out. Tony can’t recognize the voice beyond ‘male’ and ‘not quite familiar’. “Are you ok?”

_I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, I’ve got blood in my mouth and everyone that supposedly cares about me always leaves in the end._ Tony thinks.

“Mmmmmph.” Tony says instead. It’s less of ‘says’ and more of ‘whines’.

“Ok, that is definitely not ok.” The voice says, and Tony giggles hysterically into his bloody hand. The footsteps come closer and closer until there’s a set of legs in front of his hiding spot. Two seconds later a face appears.

“Alright, let’s get you out of there.” Scott Lang says, moving the chair aside and taking Tony by the arm, pulling him gently towards Lang. Tony complies, allowing himself to be pulled easily. “Let’s go to the couch, is that ok?” Tony nods in lieu of responding verbally.

It’s not like he hates Scott Lang. Tony just knows jack _shit_ about Scott Lang. He hadn’t bothered to look into Lang’s past or private life, opting to keep it secret in case Ross wanted to have leverage against the rouge avengers. He punched Lang in the face, blew him off in prison, and then there was the four months the avengers spent in Wakanda. 

Since then Tony has had exactly four interactions with Lang. The first might not even be counted, because technically he was addressing everyone in the room, and had one line spoken directly to Lang, confirming that Lang was now a member of the avengers. The second conversation was about Lang taking two weeks to deal with some personal issues. The third was niceties at six am by the coffee maker. The last time Lang spoke to him was two days ago, when he had concerns about some paragraphs in the accords referring to the media and their involvement with the avengers. 

Tony doesn’t understand why Lang is helping him.

“I’m helping you because you’re a team mate. And also because I care about your wellbeing, as a friend.” Lang says kindly, but not so kindly that it sounds fake. “Now you’re not exactly in the right state of mind, so I’m not going to hold anything you say against you, okay?” Tony nods numbly. 

Lang sits Tony down on the couch, pushing aside the mess of pillows and blankets to make room for the both of them. The first aid kit is conveniently hung above the couch, and all Lang has to do is reach up and unhook the kit and lower it carefully to the floor. The entire time he’s moving he’s talking. Soothing words, tales about his time in Wakanda, descriptions of the market place, the greenery the mansion. When Tony hisses in pain as Lang presses gauze against the wound Lang apologizes softly, while running a soothing hand up and down Tony’s back. 

“Thank you Lang.” Tony says quietly. 

“No problem.” Lang replies. “And you can call me Scott y’know.”

“Only if you call me Tony.” Tony replies easily. More easily than he has in weeks. He looks up, away from the spot on the floor he’s been staring at and instead at Scott. Scott’s brow is furrowed, he’s looking over the first aid kit that’s open on the floor, taking inventory of all the items in the box. Tony looks down at the box as well. They sit in silence until the bleeding stops. 

“Do you want me to wash the bite and apply ointment?” Scott asks. “I don’t want to crowd you too much after your panic attack.”

“I should be good.” Tony says, and Scott smiles at him, getting off the couch with a groan. 

“Clint told me about the system you had before in the tower.” Scott says, and Tony tenses, unintentionally. “I don’t know if anyone else in the compound is still in your support contacts, but I’d like to be a contact.”

As soon as Rhodey had gone to sleep the first night after the War, Tony had disabled all of Friday’s support commands. Essentially they were a list of people to be contacted if any one of the avengers were having a personal problem. Ironically, Tony’s first choice was Steve. Since Vision wasn’t even able to process his own emotions and Rhodey was already dealing with far too much bullshit, Tony had gotten rid of the entire sequence and made sure Friday contacted Tony whenever either of them needed him. 

He had almost forgotten about the support system to be honest. He’d gotten used to self soothing, a mix of old techniques that he used while in MIT and some new ones his therapist taught him.

They weren’t enough.

“Tony?” Scott gently asks.

“Sure.” Tony breathes, much to both his and Scott’s surprise. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put you in the list.”

“Great!” Scott smiles. “I’ll be heading back to bed now, call me if you need me. See you tomorrow Tony!” Tony manages a wave and a small smile in Scott’s direction as the latter leaves the workshop, the door clicking shut softly behind him. 

Tony exhales. He gets up and goes to the bathroom. He washes out the bite with soap and water and lets it run under the cool water. As the water runs he looks in the mirror. 

Tony looks _bad_. The bags under his eyes are incredibly prominent, and his eyes are red from crying. His mouth is slightly stained from his own blood, and all in all he looks so incredibly tired. He is tired. Tony turns the tap off and goes back to the first aid kit, taking the gauze from the box. As he wraps his hand he kicks the box shut, leaving it on the floor. As Tony ties the ends of the gauze into a neat knot on the top of his hand he lies down on the cot.

Tony falls asleep, expecting to wake up screaming and yelling as he tears himself out of the wormhole or out of the hydra base or out of the cave in Afghanistan where he was left horribly alone.

He falls asleep doesn’t dream. When Tony wakes up and goes to the kitchen for breakfast, Scott smiles and passes Tony a cup of coffee. It’s completely wrong, too sweet and he mixed in cinnamon - something Tony utterly despises in coffee.

“Thank you.” Tony says after his first sip, before he proceeds to down the cup. It’s not half bad when Scott smiles warmly, expression muddled by sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Try and spot where I gave up it isn't that hard lmao
> 
> Already people are commenting and saying they like it???? What????? Like I'm really happy but also incredibly lost like that was so fast.
> 
> Next update; Sam Wilson is Very Confused


End file.
